One Hundred Years of Solitude

noisy escort and she saw how
he had been mistreated by the
rigors of exile, made old by
age and oblivion, dirty with
sweat and dust, smelling like
a herd, ugly, with his left arm
in a sling, she felt faint with
disillusionment. My God, she
thought. This wasnt the
person I was waiting for. On
the following day, however,
he came back to the house
shaved and clean, with his
mustache perfumed with